Tales of tragedy, woe and whimsy from the darkest corners of a garrison town. Oh and a bit about the footy and darts...

Wednesday, 8 September 2010

Untirement

Hello readers and welcome to the Aldershot Woes, a literary black spot where ignorance is cross bred with ranting to create a tiny baby of stupid wrapped in a swaddling of dumb… The 42nd Aldershot Woe: Untirement.

If you’re like me you are at work right now, and its rubbish isn’t it? Stupid work, with stupid people with ever increasingly stupid faces, I don’t want to be here I want to be somewhere else doing something fun or rewarding or meaningful or relaxing, but I can’t as I am at work, stupid, stupid work. We are all reminded by tragedy on a near daily basis that life is short and we ought to make the most of it as we only get one go at it, but then each day we get up, we get dressed we say goodbye to our loved ones, we switch off our souls and we go to work, every day, forever and ever and ever… Until you retire that is, then you are free to dish out Wurthers Originals and hang around in garden centres to your hearts content… Ah yes retirement, the grey light at the end of the work tunnel. It has always struck me as being mean that you have to wait till you’re too old to enjoy life to get a chance to even try, who ever drew up the plans which left life organised like this needs a stern kick in the gonads. Here’s how it should be we should spend the first 16 years in education, then from 16 to 40 we have retirement, a time to enjoy life whilst we still can, then 40 onwards we all work ourselves in to the grave. This makes far more sense to me, but we have a system now and were stuck with it… or at least we were, as now thanks to banks/government/rich people we are now set to lose our Twighlight years as retirement is just not an option. Apparently there is no money to offer people a pension, so you have to save your own, but you cant save your own as the cost of living is perpetually increasing, which means YOU are going to be living pay check to pay check for the next forever… You like that desk you’re sitting at? You like that shirt and that tie and them shoes? You like those walls? Well good, as you are stuck with them, all of them, forever. You are committing your life to working everyday just so you can carry on as you are, gone is the grey light at the end of the tunnel, as it stands you’ll need to book a days holiday just to attend your own funeral. I don’t know about you but this depresses the hell out of me, this is it, this is life, get up, go to work, come home, go to bed and repeat, forever… if you are lucky you will have a good holiday one year, but that’s about all life has to offer and is the best any of us can hope for, if you want to have any sort of rewarding moments make sure they are between 6 in the evening and 8 in the morning.

So what do we do? The best thing I can think of is get a job you love, something rewarding and fun that won’t make you want to staple your face to your keyboard just to prove you are still alive. But I cant decide on a breakfast cereal I’d want to eat for more than 4 days in a row, so how the flip am I supposed to find a job id be happy with for eternity? I can’t its impossible. The best we can do is look for the positives, it is rewarding to know that future generations will not have hordes of biddies stumbling through town slowly clotting shopping isles with those huge wheeled shopping bags oldies have, nope in the future those massive bags will carry laptops as Doris clocks in to work for the billionth time before she dies.

Life is for making the most of, that’s the best we can all do with it and where as before we’d have to plot for decades and aspire to grow orange and leathery on a Spanish beach by the time were 65, we now more than ever have to live for today and make the most out of work… hmmm, I may try writing illiterate gibberish and posting inane banter on sporting blogs…

Woe…

(one positive, when a cop gets blown up in a movie and was only “one day from retirement” we’ll know he lived a long life)

Fortunatly I won't be around long enough to contemplate retirement. My plan is to drink copius amounts of alcohol everyday until I drop dead (happy) in the dungheap. I then want the punters to lay my out on the bar and set fire to my remains as a final finger in the eye to the hippies who banned smoking in bars.

I was due to retire yesterday but due to the fact I was unable to read your post on Robbos blog, I now have to stay in this job for years and years and years - well at least until you feel sorry for me (and H2H and Noel) and repost it ....

-----------------"Four million homes have no one in work"----------------------------------------------

Yup..sadly, thats what keeps me going. Great blog,RBA and as you and many others no doubt have felt over the years, we may just be wasting away our lives with our daily 9 to 5 grind (except H2, the lucky bastard). However, at least I have a job unlike those 4 million, and waste of my youth though it may be, I still count my blessings being able to amply provide for the wife and kid. Always wanted to be a stand up comedian in a bar somewhere though. H2, if there is ever a demand for average english speaking comedians in the dungheap, do give us a call will ya.

i work to get money, which i then spend on cakes ...which explains my weight (100 kg though am just 5 ft 4 inch)...and alcohol, which is a must to go through the drudgery of work....my plan is to eat and drink myself to death...when i die it will be with a huge grin, plate full of chocolate cake and a bottle of the finest

Great blog as always RBA - even if you won't repost 'the funniest blog comment in the history of blog comments'. I'm fortunate that I've fallen into a job that I genuinely love (not in a gay way). I don't know how kids are expected to chose a career path at the age of 16. I'm 30 and I still don't think I know what I want to do with my life. Apart from play right wing for Spurs and lead guitar for Muse in the evenings. There's still time yet.

I sympathise with bloggy, no ambition whatsoever. I'm 28 though and my real job must be hiding round here somewhere. An old friend of mine who's eternal noble mission is to save the world soul by broken-hearted soul wants me to go to Cameroon with her and dig wells for orphans or whatever she does. I think she's got the wrong end of the travelling stick, and mistakes my drunken rants about social and international justice for a moral code. So fuck it, time to die in a corridor at 55 from a broken heart after spending my massive tax rebate on cider and crap ecstacy. "What corridor's that, Tommy?" Why, the one at my local hospital. "Your local what?"

Ambition... pffffshhtft... lifes aint what you want, its about makeing the most out of waht you get... no its not its about erm, living for today but thinking of tomorrow, or er siezing the horn by the balls or neer having regrets or having regrets but not dwelling on them... i dont know, fucka career i'd rahte rbe happy bin man than a miserbale fuck cunt of a doctor, unless i's doctor who then i'd say fuck you humans, daleks i'm on your side... then i'd push dave ross over knob who ever me latest hottie side kick it, unless its that ginger "Bovvvvvered" woman... and i was very very drunk.